


Dancing in the Dark

by bitboozy



Series: Start a Fire [2]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Romance, Spoilers for series two, post-series two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-01-23 01:09:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21311629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitboozy/pseuds/bitboozy
Summary: Shortly after Alec Hardy leaves Broadchurch, he and Ellie keep finding ways back to each other.
Relationships: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller, Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller
Series: Start a Fire [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567420
Comments: 195
Kudos: 301





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, ask and ye shall receive I guess. I am evidently extremely susceptible to peer pressure. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone for your enthusiasm for "Fire Without a Spark." It was such a delightful surprise and I appreciate it so much.
> 
> This story directly follows that one, so I do suggest reading it first if you haven't. 
> 
> Hope this one doesn't disappoint. Thanks for reading.

The first time Alec texts her after he leaves Broadchurch, two weeks have gone by.

**Still alive.**

Ellie is on her couch watching _Bake Off _and drinking wine alone when it comes in. She smirks.

**Same here.**

And that’s it for another week. Then he texts her: 

**Just bought a scotch egg the shape of a Toblerone at a petrol station.**

Sitting at her new desk at CID, she snorts. She looks over at what once was his office, out of habit, before replying.

**Who is this? **

She can just _imagine_ him furrowing his eyebrows and frowning at the screen. After several minutes, her phone buzzes.

**Believe I’m known as DI Shitface around your parts.**

Three days later, he sits in his rented Sandbrook apartment with a scotch and spends two hours constructing a single text message to her. Its final version reads:

**Job interview in Bournemouth Saturday. Fancy a coffee? **

Ellie doesn’t see the message until twenty minutes later. She’s just finished hosing Fred down after a disastrous ketchup incident.

**Not driving all the way to Bournemouth for a coffee.**

After she’s gotten Fred to bed, she finds his response waiting for her.

**Lunch then? **

She smiles and bites her lip as she fashions her answer.

**Keep trying. **

Alec throws back what’s left of his second scotch of the night. He takes a deep breath and types:

**Dinner.**

Ellie has been staring at her mobile, waiting. She blinks at the message and sighs. 

**Too far. **

Alec rubs his face in distress. “Bloody Miller,” he groans to himself.

**Drinks then. **

Ellie smiles.

**Got it in four. **

They make arrangements for drinks, and she makes arrangements for childminding.

*

Alec consults the internet to find an appropriate bar in Bournemouth. He would admit to absolutely no one how much time he spent on the search.

He lands on a posh wine bar, and immediately regrets the choice upon entering the establishment. It is exactly as advertised, but he can’t imagine what possessed him to think Ellie would enjoy a place like this. It’s too late now. He orders a red wine and sits down at a high top by the window to wait for her.

Ellie is ten minutes late. Frankly he had expected worse, given the teenager and the toddler at home. Not a prime combination when it comes to efficiency. She’s wearing dark jeans and heeled black boots with a short grey trench coat. He barely recognizes her without the orange jacket. She’s wearing makeup too – not a lot, but enough that he notes it. Not unhappily.

It’s been nearly a month since he’s seen her. She looks a bit more rested, if a bit stiff and somber. When she reaches the table, she doesn’t sit. She places her clutch bag on the table (a far cry from the shoulder bag he’s used to) and stands there.

“Have you _met_ me?” is the first thing out of her mouth.

He sputters for a second, then replies, “Apparently not,” gesturing at her.

She is in fact perfectly dressed for this bar and fits in easily. But she stands where she is stubbornly, with a familiar glare.

“Sit down, Miller,” he growls. “Let me buy you a drink.”

He gestures to the server and she reluctantly orders a white wine, still standing. He stares at her incredulously once the server disappears.

“This is weird,” Ellie says.

“It’s weird because you’re standin’.”

With a sigh, she sits down on the stool across from him. They sit opposite one another in silence for nearly a whole minute as they avoid each other’s gazes. The server returns with her wine and she thanks him.

After taking a sip, she asks how the interview went.

“Fine.” He shrugs. “I never can tell with these things.”

She nods and takes another sip.

“How are the boys?” He questions.

“Good. I’m keeping them busy. Lots of activities. Keep their minds off things,” Ellie replies. “Not that Fred’s mind is really ever on anything but his little toy cars.”

“Ah, right.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little Hot Wheels car. “Was Daisy’s.”

Ellie stares at the car on the table. “For Fred?”

Alec nods. “Go on.”

She glances at him quickly, then picks it up. “Thanks.” She holds it in her lap. “How _are_ things with Daisy?" 

“Bit better every day. Think she’s warmin’ back up to me.” He nods at her. “Gonna take your coat off?”

She shakes her head. “Won’t be here long.”

His face falls and he picks up his wine glass, hiding his expression as he takes a sip.

“Got my old job back,” she announces, sensing a lull in the conversation.

He looks up and nods, pleased. “Good. That’s good.”

She nods back and takes a sip. “Yeah.”

“You look…” He trails off. His face feels hot suddenly and he hopes to god she can’t tell. “Nice.”

The corner of her lips curve up into a half-smile. “Please, Hardy. Don’t flatter me.”

It’s a precarious thing, where they are now. Or at least it feels precarious to _him_. Do they try to go back to the way things have always been between them? Or do they acknowledge what happened just before he left? Or…both, somehow? He hadn’t wanted to make any presumptions, which was why he’d suggested coffee to start. Her request for drinks could‘ve been indicative of anything, so he’d forced himself not to read into it. 

“It’s…” He clears his throat. “Your hair’s growin’ out.”

“Yeah. Bit of a change,” she replies. “Course Fred just keep pulling at it.”

It’s odd, but he might in fact…_miss_ Fred. “Precocious lad, he is.”

It feels completely accidental when their eyes meet suddenly. And neither one of them looks away for what feels like a long moment.

Then she breaks it, bringing her wine glass to her lips and throwing back what’s left of it. “Let’s go.”

“Wha?”

She stands up and tightens the belt on her jacket. “Leave some money on the table, come on.”

He frowns at her but does as he’s told. He leaves more than enough on the table and finishes his wine quickly. She grabs her clutch and then grabs his hand. He feels a jolt of something when she does and follows her eagerly out of the building. 

“Where’re you draggin’ me off to, Miller?” He questions as they hit the pavement.

She nods in the direction of a small traveler’s hotel at the end of the block. Or at least he _thinks_ that’s what she’s nodding at. He’s too stunned to respond and the rest of the brisk walk passes in silence.

Ellie opens the door to the hotel and pushes him inside before her. He looks at her like a deer in headlights as they approach the reception desk.

“How can I help you?”

Ellie raises an eyebrow at Alec. “Go on.”

He just looks at her. She sighs.

“We’d like a room. Any room. One bed.” She looks at Alec again. “Give him your credit card.”

Alec pulls out his wallet and lays a credit card down on the counter.

Within less than two minutes, they’re walking up the stairs to the second floor, Ellie with a room key in hand. When they find their room, Ellie lets them inside and the door shuts behind them. She tosses the key and her clutch onto the bed and turns to him.

“Miller.” He’s disgruntled but he doesn’t know precisely why.

She unfastens the belt of her coat then pulls it off, revealing a black v-neck tank top that somehow both clings to her and hangs off her. In all the right places. And she has the gall to be wearing a _red bra _underneath. He knows because the v-neck plunges far enough that he can _see _it.

“Uh.”

She places her hands on her hips. “I _can_ wear nice things,” she says indignantly. “Just like other women.”

He wants to tell her that she doesn’t _need_ to. He wants her even in a baggy jumper and sweat pants. But he’s too stunned.

“God’s sake, take your jacket off, you’re so bloody stiff,” she demands.

He rubs his temple and lets out something resembling a put out sigh. “One shag a month ago and suddenly…”

She takes a single step back. “…You don’t want me.”

“No, no, that’s not what I – “ He pinches the bridge of nose. “I want you, christ, I want you, but – “

She’s been greenlighted. She closes the gap between them and slides her arms up around his neck. “Good. No one’s touched me since you. ‘Sides the boys, obviously. My skin is _aching_.”

He tentatively places his hands at her waist, struggling to keep rational thoughts in his head with that plunging neckline barely inches from him. “Ellie…"

“Don’t call me Ellie.”

Then he realizes _his _skin is aching. He hadn’t had a phrase for it before. His whole body seems to be crying out for her.

“Look, Hardy, this doesn’t have to be a big deal if we don’t _make_ it a big deal,” she says. “We’re two consenting adults who have a certain…chemistry and we deserve to feel good.”

“…Right.” He’s nodding, but with reserve.

“I trust you. You trust me. Right?” He nods again. She is in fact the _only_ person he trusts. “And I think we can allow ourselves to admit that we are…_attracted_ to each other.”

His eyes fall to her breasts. “Uh.” He swallows. “Yeah.”

“It need not be any more complicated than that.”

She presses her body to his and tightens her arms around his neck and oh christ he’s half-hard already, this is unfair.

“Kiss me,” she says.

He leans forward, entranced by the look in her eyes, but then stops. “…Fear we might be playin’ a dangerous game here, Miller."

“…Do you _want _to kiss me?”

He swallows.

“Then kiss me.”

One brief moment of hesitation, then his lips are attacking hers with abandon, the force of his kiss pushing her back against the wall.

Alec thinks about all the different women she might become now. For thirteen years she’s been married to a man she was in love with, who for all intents and purposes was also in love with her, but who was sick, and dangerous, and betrayed her. She slept in his bed and bore his children. Her life has been ruined by him, decimated, he threw her to the wolves. The _darkness_ of those months in Devon, demoted to traffic cop, one son refusing to live with her or even speak with her, the other a _baby_. Alec cannot imagine having to take care of a baby in the wake of this sort of devastation. He cannot imagine even having to simply get out of bed each morning. But she hasn’t had a choice. For months she got up with her not quite two-year-old, went to work as a job that was beneath her skills, far away from her family and friends, and then came home to a furnished apartment with no personal affects. She has had to fight through the darkness and do most of it alone.

Alec knows what it’s like to recover from a failed marriage. To lose the person you loved most. Or thought you did. To sleep alone very suddenly after more than a decade of sleeping beside someone. He understands that loss. He knows how deep it runs, how harrowing it is. He cannot even begin to begin to begin to imagine that feeling coupled with…all the rest of it. Tess’ betrayal has nothing on Joe’s betrayal. And Alec, at least, got to wallow in his sadness and anguish. Ellie has not been afforded the same luxury. She is a single parent with a baby who needs her in the most basic sense of the word.

Now she gets to rebuild. To recall the woman she was before she met Joe. To think about the woman she can be after him. She can be fun, sexy, impetuous Ellie if she wants to. She has that right. To experiment. To discover a new life for herself.

And god knows Alec has no interest in dating around. He has a desperate yearning to be touched, to feel warmth, to experience _release_. To breathe. But the only woman, the only _person_, he trusts is her. And she’s the only person he can imagine trusting.

So maybe she’s right. Why _shouldn’t_ they?

One hand goes to her cheek as he kisses her, the other slips into her back pocket. She’s pushing his jacket off his shoulders, then going straight for the buttons of his shirt. He presses his hardness between her legs and rubs up against her, and they both moan into each other’s mouths at the sensation.

She’s giving as good as she gets in the kiss, almost like she’s fighting with him, tongues at war. He wonders if it’s to combat the vulnerability. She attacks him so neither has a chance to consider how they might actually feel about one another. Those feelings are of no use to them right now.

With his shirt now unbuttoned, she pushes it open and places her hands flat on his chest. She slides them up and down, feeling every contour of him, then playing with his chest hair. He reaches for the back of her thighs and lifts her up. She wraps her legs around his waist and hooks her ankles together. 

“_Yes_,” Ellie whispers fervently, and he’s convinced she’s not even heard herself say it.

He makes the difficult choice to move his lips from _her _lips to her neck – a Sophie’s Choice to be sure, and focuses his energies on the crook between her neck and shoulder, immediately moved to leave a mark there.

She’s dragging her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp, as she tilts her head to the side to give him better access to her neck. Her entire body seems to be on fire, and she’s so expressive about every little thing. He knows unequivocally when he’s doing something right. And when he’s doing something wrong. It’s oddly comforting. To not have to wonder.

He begins sucking another mark into her shoulder, next to the one on her neck. She’s positively vibrating against him, so he feels no motivation to stop. He thinks about how no one’s touched her since he did. No one’s touched _him_ besides her in…_years_. And yet it doesn’t seem to matter. If he had to wait years to feel as good as he feels right now, it was a fair trade. 

Suddenly it’s hard to remember the Ellie Miller who used to pull away from him. Flinch at his touch. Shove him away. She’s so _alive_ with him now.

Lips still glued to her shoulder, his hands leave her thighs – she’s secured herself pretty well with her legs locked around his waist – and move to her breasts. He fumbles at them through her top, feeling them from every angle. He did not get nearly enough time with them when they last met. Sliding his hands up underneath her top, he massages them with great care and interest, and thinks about how she’s tried to hide them away in the past. Being a female detective means having to conceal much of your sexuality, he remembers from Tess. If you’re seen as a distraction, you’ll never be taken seriously.

Alec removes his lips from her skin and lifts her top up over her head, tossing it away. Her red lace bra nearly causes him to do a double take, even though he knew to expect it. She’s right, he realizes, she _can _wear nice things, and there’s no reason to assume otherwise. She’s an attractive woman in her prime, and she had a whole life before he met her under such traumatic circumstances. A life that probably included nights out at the pub with friends, romantic dinners with her husband, parties on the beach, and reunion drinks with old mates from uni. Not just suits at work and jumpers at home.

Ellie Miller has been a three-dimensional woman all this time. Not only his partner, a harried single mother, a detective rising the ranks. A woman.

He’s been staring. Apparently.

“Hardy.”

He looks up at her face, lipstick smeared across her flushed cheeks. He reaches for her cheeks and rubs the lipstick off with his thumbs. She looks caught, frozen, overwhelmed and maybe a little surprised by the gesture. It’s too intimate. Clearly not what she thought she had signed up for.

She unhooks her ankles and brings her feet to the floor, impatiently going for his belt buckle.

But he stops her. Stills her hands. Then leans forward and kisses her, this time soft and slow. He touches her cheek again with one hand, the other falling to grasp at her hip.

“Ellie,” he exhales against her lips.

He feels her tense up. “_Miller_,” she stubbornly insists.

Alec shakes his head slowly and touches his forehead to hers. “Ellie.” His hand travels down from her cheek, caressing her neck, down over her shoulder, her arm, to rest at her other hip.

He tries to kiss her again, but this time she doesn’t respond.

Then she slips away from him, leaving him to fall forward against the wall. He sighs heavily, then turns to watch her picking up her top and pulling it back on. Then she stalks over to the bed and grabs her clutch bag before turning back to him.

“This is not, um.” She looks down. “I didn’t…” Alec frowns, listening to her stutter the way _he _does. “I’m sorry.”

Without looking at him, she brushes past him and out the door. Alec stands where he is for a moment, feeling like something has been snatched from him, then slowly trudges over to the edge of the bed. He sits and drops his head into his hands, rubbing his face.

This is going to take a lot more work than he thought.

*


	2. Chapter 2

The hardest part of being alone is the cold.

More than anything, Ellie misses the _warmth_ of being married. Having someone to hold, to hold her, to place a blanket over her shoulders, to rub her feet after a long day.

It’s been two months since the trial ended and she’s _freezing_. Once the boys are in bed, she has only her glass of wine to keep her warm. So she has a few. Perhaps a few too many. And then she takes out her mobile.

She opens a blank message to _DI Shitface _several times before she actually begins composing one.

**Thought of you today.**

It’s cruel, she knows it is, but even the _idea_ of hearing from him, talking to him, is a genuine thrill and she just wants to feel something that isn’t _lonely _or _tired_.

**Oh? **

…She realizes she has nothing more to say. She should have known better than to assume he would pick up the conversation and carry it for her.

**Did Bournemouth pan out? **

She’s terrified to know the answer.

**Got the job, don’t like the job. **

And then another:

**DS is a proper bonehead.**

Ellie has decided to interpret this as “miss you.”

**So’s my DI. **

**Though that’s nothing new.**

She imagines he might smile at that. Hopes he might.

But that’s the end of it. She waits about twenty minutes for a reply, then goes to bed.

The next day, Fred is extremely fussy from the moment she picks him up from the child minder’s after work. Tom, too, is grumpy. She barely gets three words out of him at supper, then he disappears into his bedroom. Fred attaches himself to her, literally, as she tries to tidy up and won’t let go.

This was all much easier in a two-parent household. She could go upstairs and interrogate Tom while Joe looked after a fussy Fred. Then they might switch. One could tidy up while the other put Fred to bed. They could keep each other’s sanity in check that way. Maintain a balance. But on her own, she feels like she’s constantly treading water, struggling to keep her head above. And all she wants to do is have a glass of wine and sit in front of the telly.

When there’s a knock on the door around half seven, Fred is in her arms clinging to her, head resting on her shoulder. She’s been trying to rock him into some sort of calmness, but he’s been having none of it.

Ellie is astonished when she opens the door to find Alec Hardy standing there. He’s holding a bottle of wine.

“_Hardy_,” she exclaims.

Fred lifts his head to see. There’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes when he looks at Alec, and then he glumly drops his head onto her shoulder again.

“Thought you could use some of this.” He raises the wine bottle.

She simply blinks back at him for a second, then steps back so he can enter. “Come in.”

“Bad time?” Alec asks.

Ellie rubs Fred’s back, swaying gently back and forth. “Fred’s a bit clingy at the moment I’m afraid,” she explains. “Child psychologist says it’s because he can feel that something’s missing and he doesn’t know what.”

“Child psychologist?”

“For Tom, mostly, I make him go once a week. And occasionally ask him questions about Fred,” she replies. “He doesn’t _realize_ he’s missing his father, of course, he’s not even two yet, but he can feel the loss of him. If that make sense. So he clings to me all the more.”

Fred moans pitifully into her neck. “I know, my sweet, you’re all right,” she whispers softly. Then she glances over at Alec again. “Not so glamorous. Motherhood.”

Alec nods. “I should go. Dunno what I was thinkin’ just droppin’ in on you, I’m sorry.”

He heads for the door but Ellie stops him. “Could use the company actually. If you’re not bothered.”

He hesitates for a moment and seems to be studying her carefully. “Pour you a glass?”

She smiles. “Kitchen cupboard next to the stove.”

When he comes back into the living room with two glasses of wine, she’s sitting on the couch with Fred lying on top of her. His little hand is in her shirt, grasping at her breast. Alec tries not to look.

She just chuckles a little. “Sorry. He’s – we weened him off it a little too quickly, doctor says. It was making things difficult at work and with the Florida trip coming up, we thought --- anyway, he’s not quite over it.” She takes a deep breath. She can’t believe she’s telling him this. But suddenly she realizes how starved she’s been for adult company, how badly she just needs to just _talk_, just say things out loud. “Sticks his hand in there every chance he gets. _But_…it does quiet him, I’ll say that.”

Fred’s eyes slowly open and close as sleep fights to take over.

“What brings you round to Broadchurch?” She asks.

“I…” He looks into his wine glass. “You, actually.”

“Oh,” she exhales.

“Wanted to see how you were gettin’ on.”

He’s sitting in a chair adjacent to the couch where she sits with Fred.

She doesn’t look at him when she says, with little conviction, “We’re all right.” She kisses the top of the child’s head. “How’s Daisy?”

“Good,” Alec replies. “Better. Difficult age, fifteen. Not an easy time to be repairin’ our relationship but it feels like we’re, uh. Makin’ some strides.”

“Happy to hear it,” Ellie says.

Alec gestures at Fred. “Looks like he’s out.”

“Oh, thank god.” She stands slowly and carefully so as not to disturb him. “I’ll just put him down, if you don’t mind waiting.”

“I don’t mind.”

Ten minutes later, she returns downstairs holding the baby monitor and places it on the bookshelf nearby. Alec is on his second glass of wine and has moved to the couch, where he is thumbing through one of her coffee table books absently. She picks up her glass of wine, then moves to sit on the opposite end of the couch.

“Hopefully he’ll stay down,” she says, taking a sip. “He’s been waking up in the night more and more.” She looks down. “Just wish I could explain it to him. Sweet baby is so upset and he doesn’t know why. At least Tom can get help and work through it.”

Alec has been listening to her intently, but can only nod. “I’m sorry.”

They each drink their wine in silence for a moment.

“…You drove all the way out here just to see me?” Ellie asks suddenly.

“Mm.” He takes a sip. “Aye.”

“Wish I’d known, I’d have…washed my hair or something.” She smiles. He just looks at her, so she keeps talking. “I’m sorry about the way we left things. I seem to have a bad habit of running out of you, don’t I?” Again, he says nothing. “Trouble is I have no idea what I want. Barely any idea of where I _am_ half the time. I sometimes think if it wasn’t for the boys I’d have run off somewhere and made some awfully questionable decisions during this time. To be perfectly honest I just don’t….know what to _do_ now. It’s not like being a widow and it’s not like being divorced. I don’t know what the precedent is for this sort of thing.” She smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m going on.”

Alec shakes his head. “Go on as much as you like.”

She turns to him, bending one knee and holding it to her chest. “The thing is, I didn’t know that you…that you…_felt _things for me. Like that. When we…the first time, it was so very of the moment, both of us just needing to be touched and needing release. I thought maybe if we…kept that up, it might be nice for us both, but I didn’t realize there was more. For you.”

“I, um.” Alec scratches his head. He hadn’t meant for this to become a deconstruction of their recent choices, though he ought to have expected it. “Yeah. I understand.”

She smiles and leans forward, trying to connect with him somehow. “We have a strange relationship, Hardy, you must admit.”

He offers her a half-smile in return. “Could say that.”

“Frankly I’m not sure what to _do_ with all this…intimacy we’ve developed without knowing it,” she says. “I’ve never been so close to someone without properly knowing what they were to me. If that makes sense.”

“’s all right, Miller,” Alec says. “If what you need is a friend – “

“What I need is someone with no expectations,” Ellie tells him, with sudden conviction. “Right now I don’t know who I am or what I want. I don’t know if I’m starting from scratch or simply rebuilding. All I know is I don’t want to be alone. But I don’t want my need to be…_kept warm_ to force me into making decisions I’m not ready to make yet.”

Alec puts his wine glass down and turns all the way toward her. “’s okay. Take your time, Miller. Get to know yourself again.”

She blinks once or twice at him. “…What does that _mean_?” She asks this as much of_ herself_ as of him.

“It means I’ll be here.”

Ellie takes the briefest of moments to let that sink in, then leans forward and takes his face in her hands, kissing him. He moans with both pleasure and surprise, his hands going to her waist. She inches toward him on her knees as they kiss, then crawls onto his lap, straddling him. He parts her lips with his tongue at the same time his hands slip underneath her top and run up and down the length of her spine. She moves her hands from his cheeks to his hair, pulling and twisting, scratching at his scalp.

She truly hadn’t realized she wanted him so badly. But from the moment he appeared in her doorway, she’s been vibrating for him. She has no idea where it’s come from. Together they solved two entire murder cases together without her ever feeling the need to jump him like this. But when he’s around, her grief and sadness seem to dissolve into hunger and need.

“Ellie.” He says her name once, then tries to say it again but she kisses him through it so she doesn’t have to hear it.

Alec bends his head to plant kisses along her collarbone, and she feels suddenly euphoric. The feeling of his lips on her skin, his warm hands splayed across her back, the way he’s panting for her. It’s been so long since she’s felt well and truly _wanted_ and that alone warms her.

He unhooks her bra and his hands slide frontward to cup her breasts. She melts into his touch and feels like she could _cry, _but instead she releases a truly gutteral moan, dripping with desperation. Then she feels him getting hard underneath her. She sits up suddenly, forcing his lips away from her skin

“Kids…” She breathes out. “Tom. Upstairs.”

He stares at her blankly for a moment, completely unable to comprehend anything but his lips on her skin. “…Right.”

She brings her hands to her cheeks. They’re hot and flushed. “Sorry.” Then she climbs off his lap and sits beside him, reclasping her bra.

He grabs a couch pillow and pulls it over his lap. She turns her head to him and smiles, blushing.

“That was fun,” Ellie says breathlessly.

And truthfully, _fun _is the greatest compliment she could give a person at this time in her life. She feels _lighter_ than she did half an hour ago.

“Uh huh.”

“Can we…” She touches his arm as she looks at him, trying to discern what he’s feeling. “Can you manage that? This. Again?”

He stares back at her incredulously. “Can I _manage _it?”

“Yeah. No strings,” she clarifies. “When the mood strikes us. Just…taking care of each other’s needs. And our own.”

He looks away from her, thoughtfully.

She tries to meet his gaze. “You can call me Ellie?”

It’s strange, she thinks, that this should be the deciding matter. A year ago he wouldn’t have taken _money_ to call her Ellie.

“This is…what you want?” He asks, his hand slowly inching toward hers.

“I think so,” she answers quietly. “For now.” 

His fingers grasp hers. “All right.”

Then Fred starts wailing, his plaintive and drawn out “_Mummaaaaaa” _filtering through the baby monitor. Ellie hops up.

“Sorry, I’ve got to – oh listen to him, isn’t it the most pitiful thing you’ve ever heard.”

Alec stands as well.

“We’ll, um…be in touch?” Ellie suggests.

He nods curtly. “Look forward to it.” Though it doesn’t much seem like he is.

Fred’s cries grow louder. “Can you see yourself out?”

“Yeah. Go on.”

She scurries out of the room and up the stairs.

*

The next morning, she awakes in Fred’s room. She’s in the rocking chair, Fred asleep on her chest. It’s only once the boys are both dropped off at school and the childminder’s respectively that she has a chance to glance at her mobile.

The first text is from Alec, and it reads:

**Big weekend plans?**

She smiles and replies:

**Never.**

A few hours later, her mobile vibrates.

**Come by mine Friday night. I’ll make you a proper dinner. **

_Dinner_. Ellie stares at the screen. Dinner seems like a lot more than they’d agreed upon. But then again, how many times have they had dinner together in the course of knowing each other? Still, things being the way they are now, that sounds quite a bit like a date.

That said, a proper meal does sound nice. But she doesn’t want to give him the wrong idea.

For the next hour, she sits at her desk conjuring up ideas for how to have both dinner and sex with Alec Hardy without giving him the wrong idea about the nature of their relationship.

It’s a fool’s errand to be sure, and she feels like a prize idiot.

Finally around lunchtime an idea occurs to her. It’s a simple idea, and maybe not the most fool-proof, but it will at the very least justify her decision to say yes.

Sex _first_. If she can get him to shag her _before_ dinner, it’ll feel a lot less like a proper date.

And ooh! Sex first. Then dinner. Then sex _again_.

This she can get on board with. (She may be just a little bit randy.)

She picks up her mobile with confidence and replies:

**Be there at eight. **

She then spends the rest of her lunch break scouring lingerie shops on the internet.

*


	3. Chapter 3

Alec Hardy would very much like to know when in god’s name he got so bloody _stupid_.

He’s a man who doesn’t open up. Who keeps to himself. Who growls when someone tries to talk to him. When _anyone_ tries to talk to him.

Anyone. Except Ellie Miller.

She’s not ready for a relationship. She’s made this patently clear. And yet here he is, mulling over recipes to cook for her. Here he is buying the nicest wine he can find at the corner store. Considering candles (ultimately deciding against them, thank christ). Leaving work early to make sure his tiny little makeshift apartment is at the very least _presentable_.

All for Ellie, who has seen him at his worst, who is now at _her_ worst. The unfortunate thing is he likes her very much at her worst. Her best just might overwhelm him.

He hadn’t wanted to fall in love with her. In fact, for a while, he was furious at himself for it. But as time has gone on, he’s realized there’s little to be done about it. He must allow himself to be vulnerable and open, for that is what love is. And as a result of this vulnerability, he spends most of his days feeling like he’s going to vomit.

His suggestion of dinner was not to complicate things. It was not because he hasn’t heard her. He simply thought it would be a nice thing to do. To cook for someone who needs cooking for. It was only later, when it took so long for her to text him back, that he realized the implications. He had half a mind to call the whole thing off. But then she said yes.

Alec is in the kitchen stirring a cream sauce when there’s a knock on the door. Precisely 8:01. Not bad for a mother of two.

From the second he opens the door, all he can think about is how badly he wants to kiss her. She’s got her grey trench coat on again, and those heeled boots.

“I’m on time, I know, no need to praise me,” Ellie says as she breezes past him into the apartment and looks around. “…Nice.”

It most decidedly isn’t. It’s barely furnished and a bit shabby but it provides a roof over his head and running water, which is good enough for him.

Ellie holds out a bottle of wine. “Not as nice as what you brought me before but will get the job done.”

He accepts it. “Thanks. Can I – “

His question is aborted when she starts slowly walking toward him. There’s an unmistakable affection in her eyes, one he hadn’t anticipated. She touches his cheek, then kisses his lips. It’s fairly quick, but soft and her eyes are closed. Then she steps away as if she’s surprised even herself.

“Direct me to the loo?” She asks hurriedly. “Long drive.”

“Second door on the right.”

She disappears into the hall with her bag. In the kitchen, he opens the wine and pours them each a glass. He’s checking on the sauce when he hears his name from the other room.

“Hardy…”

She’s standing in the little makeshift living room, leaning against the wall. She’s clad only in matching red lace bra and knickers, and a garter belt holding up sheer black stockings. If he’d been holding a glass of wine, he would have dropped it.

Ellie Miller. _His_ Ellie Miller. He had established last time that she was indeed very much a woman. But he had no idea just…_how_ much. How _dare_ she look this good.

His jaw goes slack and he’s immediately half-hard just from looking at her. She’s smiling like the Cheshire cat, clearly aware of the effect she’s having on him.

“Care for an appetizer?” She says enticingly.

“Uh.” He’s staring unabashedly. “Um. Just one…um.” He turns back into the kitchen and rushes to turn off the stove, then returns.

Alec appears frozen in the doorway, so she takes a few slow, menacing steps toward him. He swallows. Once she’s close enough to touch, she reaches out and grabs his tie, yanking him forward.

“God’s sake, Hardy, for once will you act on impulse?”

Almost as if a switch has been flipped, he hurls himself at her, lips attacking hers, pushing her back against the wall. His hands are all over her, he can’t touch her enough. For years, he’d been fine with being celibate and had accepted his fate, until two months ago when they’d unexpectedly shagged in his tiny twin bed and ever since then he’s been _ravenous_. Their close encounter a few weeks ago, and then again last week, had only fanned the flames and he hasn’t stopped thinking about her since.

He kisses her breathless, then moves down to her neck, sucking at her pulse point like he’s out to draw blood. His hands slide down to squeeze her arse, then move to the back of her thighs, massaging them, rubbing his hard length against her. The little noises she makes only rev him up.

“Jesus Christ, Ellie,” he whispers into her throat.

Gripping her thighs, he lifts her up suddenly, relishing in the thrill plain on her face, and carries her over to the couch. He tries to lay her down gently, but he’s in too much of a rush. Splayed across the couch, her entire body blushing, he can’t take his eyes off her as he unfastens his belt and yanks it off. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly in anticipation and he feels like he might explode just looking at her. He pulls down his trousers and steps out of them, then slips off his tie before diving on top of her.

As he kisses her desperately, her nimble fingers work on the buttons of his dress shirt, needing to feel the warmth of him. He kisses his way down, her throat, clavicle, chest, dragging his tongue. Her nails are digging into his shoulders through the fabric of his shirt and he responds by grinding his hard cock between her legs.

“_Fuck_,” she exhales, raising her hips to meet him, head falling back.

Hearing and feeling the way she wants him just as badly as he wants her is incredibly arousing to him. As if he needed more to be aroused by.

He licks her nipple through the red lace material of her bra and massages the other breast with his hand, grinding into her all the while.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into the side of her breast.

He doesn’t see her face, all he hears is, “No.” And somehow he understands.

“Sexy,” he amends.

He can feel her nodding. “Uh huh.”

Encouraged, he keeps that up. “So bloody sexy.”

“Yeah,” she pants, just as he pushes one bra strap off her arm and releases her breast from its constraints.

He takes it in his mouth and sucks at it hungrily. Her fingers pull at his hair as she moans with pleasure. It’s utterly thrilling to him, the sounds she’s making, the force with which she’s grabbing at him in response to his ministrations. As he sucks and licks her nipple, one hand travels down her body and into her knickers. She bucks her hips instinctively, and he can feel how desperate she is for him.

“_Please_.”

He’s never heard her beg before. Not for anything. Her fingers begin to stroke her, priming her for more, and when he raises his head to look at her, her eyes are closed and she’s biting her lip. He keeps his head raised so he can watch her expression change as he slips a finger inside her. Her jaw goes slack and her cheeks are impossibly red. He grins.

“Yeah?”

She nods urgently. “_Oh _yeah. Yes.”

He finds her clit with his thumb and brings his mouth back to her breast.

“Oh fuck,” Ellie gasps. “_Fuck_.”

Her hips are bucking wildly and he has to steady her with his other hand.

“Shhh,” he whispers into her skin. “I’ll take care of you.”

He slips another finger inside her and her moan alone could launch a thousand ships. He moves his mouth to her other breast, freeing it from her bra cup as well, and flicks her nipple with his tongue as his thumb massages her clit, and her little cries become louder. He can feel her constricting, getting closer.

“Hardy…”

It’s not _quite_ the name he wants to hear now but it’s good enough.

When she comes it’s explosive, like it’s been centuries, and she cries out with the freedom of a woman who for once in her life doesn’t have to be quiet because of the children in the next room. His fingers coax her through it, letting her experience every wave of it, then he pulls his hand out so he can yank off his briefs.

Kneeling on the couch in only his open dress shirt, he sits between her knees and watches her come down from her orgasm. Then slowly, deftly he begins to detach her garter belt as she watches with rapt attention. He rolls down her stockings, one by one, relishing in the reveal of her legs. He plants kisses on the inside of her thigh as he starts to peel her knickers off, easing them down and off her legs.

“Unbelievably sexy,” he tells her, crawling over her and leaning down to kiss her. The kiss is deep and languid. She’s too loose and weakened by her orgasm to try to roughen it up, so he takes his time, trying to live inside the kiss for as long as he can.

And then, with his lips still on hers, he guides himself inside her. Her eyes open and their gazes meet just before she says, “Fuck me.”

He starts to move inside her, slowly at first.

She takes his face in her hands and makes sure he sees the look in her eyes when she says, “Hardy.” Her eyes are dark and narrowed. “_Fuck me_.”

He takes her at her word, thrusting good and hard inside her. He tries not to take the moment for granted, wants to savor each second, but he can’t. He’s so desperate for her, they’re so desperate for _each other_, that he quickly finds himself digging his fingers into her thighs and pushing into her with abandon.

She keeps whispering “yes, yes…” and his fingers press harder into her thighs, his thrusts becoming more and more reckless. Already he’s close and he’s not sure how much longer he can hold out with the sight of her before him, face flushed, breasts freed from the red lace bra that is technically still on her.

He slips a hand between them. He’s not so certain of what she likes yet, what gets her off, or if she can even handle multiple orgasms, but he seems to recall it happening the first time. (And by “seems to recall” he means “remembers vividly.”) So he may as well try again. He finds her clit and her head drops back, neck craning, as she gasps. He desperately wants her to come first, so he closes his eyes to keep from looking at her. He thumbs her clit until she cries out again, then he opens his eyes and immediately finishes himself, crying out her name and collapses on top of her.

He’s afraid to move after that. Afraid that the moment he pulls out of her she’ll run away again. Then he feels her hands on his back, fingers tracing little circles. She’s not going anywhere.

Alec rolls over to lie next to her, both of them staring up at the ceiling.

“Good _christ_ I needed that,” Ellie announces. She turns her head to look at him. “You?”

“_Aye_.”

She props herself up on one elbow to face him. She’s glowing. “Do you need to, um…” She makes a vague gesture.

They both know the word she’s looking for is _cuddle_, but neither one of them wants to be the first to say it out loud.

“…Would be nice,” he replies, trying his best to sound neutral.

“Right, then.” She looks a little like she’s bracing herself, and he tries not to be insulted.

Ellie curls up against him and tentatively rests her head on his chest. He brings his arm up around her, and she seems to relax into it. Alec closes his eyes, breathing her in, trying to memorize how she feels in his arms, knowing it’ll be all too brief. When did he become such a sappy sod? He’s gruff, terse, curmudgeonly. He hates people.

…But he loves her.

Goddamnit.

Her small voice yanks him out of his thoughts. “Pacemaker seems to be doing its job well enough.”

“Mm."

Her fingers drift along the scar, then she suddenly pulls them away, as if she’s realized she’s crossed an intimacy line. Of her own creation.

His hand travels aimlessly over her bare back, feeling for every contour and muscle, each vertabrae of her spine. For a woman who has been so unceremoniously roughened up by life, her skin is impossibly smooth and taut. The latter, he suspects, is due to her not eating so much these days. The Ellie Miller he first met would put just about anything into her mouth, especially in times of stress. But the Ellie Miller of now has to be _reminded_ to eat.

His hand stills when he feels her playing with his chest hair. He never imagined something so simple and easy could give him such a warm feeling. He wants this every day. Even when she infuriates him, he wants every day to end just like this.

As if she can read his thoughts, Ellie sits up suddenly. “Good?”

“Uh.”

“Okay,” she says, taking that as a _yes_ and sitting up.

She picks up her underwear, leaving the garter belt and stockings somewhere on the floor, and runs off to the loo.

Alec tries to remember to be grateful she gave him those moments at all. He sits up, stretches, and grabs a few items of his clothing as he walks off to his tiny bedroom. He comes back out wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, holding a light flannel robe.

He knocks on the loo door. “Ellie? D’you want to just, um…”

She cracks the door open. He holds up the robe. She contemplates it for about ten seconds, then grabs it and shuts the door again. He will count this as a win.

Alec returns to the kitchen and begins salvaging the meal he’d started but abruptly halted. Within a minute or two, she joins him, wearing his robe. He can’t help smiling when he sees her. She folds her arms across her chest and leans against the wall, a little self-conscious.

“Looks much better on you,” Alec says.

The sleeves are too long and hide her hands. She smiles a bit crookedly.

“That was, um…” He trails off.

“Bloody fantastic?” She offers.

He turns to the stove so she doesn’t see his grin. “Yeah.”

“Haven’t had multiple orgasms in…”

Oh. There they are. Just openly talking about orgasms in the kitchen. This is new.

He decides to run with it.

“Since the _last_ time we, uh. Shagged.”

She laughs and covers her mouth. “Oh, that’s right.”

“Yeah.” He’ll not let her forget that.

“Before that it had been…” She makes a cringey face. “A _while_.”

Alec smirks to himself. But he doesn’t want to dig too deeply into that one. She sits down at the kitchen table, making sure the robe stays closed.

“You don’t _seem_ very out of practice,” she comments coyly.

“Ah.” He might be blushing now. “Just, uh. Motivated.”

He can _hear _the smile in her voice. “By me?”

“Aye, by you.”

They share a smile, then she quickly looks away and clears her throat. “What is it you’re making anyway?”

“Just a chicken with a pesto cream sauce with roasted vegetables.”

“Oh _just_.”

“Daisy’s been eating it since she was small, so even _you_’ll like it,” Alec quips.

Dinner passes fairly quickly. Ellie is much hungrier than she realized – their little appetizer clearly helped her work up an appetite – and they spend much of the meal on casual small talk. She tells him about a few of the cases she’s working on in Broadchurch, he shares a few stories from the Bournemouth CID. For twenty minutes or so, they feel a bit like their old selves, their old relationship. One would never know they’d just had a wild, passionate shag just thirty minutes earlier.

Afterward, Ellie insists on doing all of the washing up herself. He fights her – and enjoys the fight, if he’s being honest – then gives up, by which time she’s nearly already through. He pours himself a scotch and goes into living room to wait for her. He has no idea what she’ll do next. Just _leave_, more than likely.

To his surprise, when she finishes, she sits next to him on the couch. She crosses her legs gingerly, and this time lets the sides of the robe fall where they may. She grabs the glass out of his hands and takes a sip before handing it back. His leg is shaking so she places a hand on his knee to steady him. He stills so quickly that he stiffens.

“Do you want me to go?” She asks.

“_No_,” he answers, too quickly. He clears his throat. “Uh, no. But if you need to…”

Ellie just looks at him in response, then looks away. “Nice to have a meal not eaten at my desk, or while trying to feed a two-year-old,” she says. “Oh. You might appreciate this. The other night, Fred was having his supper, and I stepped away just for a moment. When I came back he’d fallen asleep. Face first in his yoghurt. I woke him and when he lifted his head, he looked like Mrs. Doubtfire, he was completely covered in it.” She starts laughing uncontrollably. “Tom and I couldn’t stop laughing. Until of course the poor thing started crying and I had to clean him up. But –” She covers her mouth, still beside herself. “_Hilarious_.”

He smiles. Watching her laugh is an extraordinary thing. He realizes he’s never quite seen her laugh like this before.

“Daisy used to paint my face with yoghurt,” Alec says, the sudden memory surprising him. “She’d dip her fingers in then smear it across my cheeks, and I’d let her to do it until I was fully masked.”

She’s grinning at him. “Really?”

“Had me wrapped around her finger, the wee lass did.”

“That’s lovely,” she says.

He nods, looking down and hoping he’s not blushing. While looking down he realizes her hand is still on his knee. He covers it with his, then tentatively curls his fingers into hers. It’s a risk, he knows it, and he’s fully expecting her to pull away. But she reciprocates, curling her own fingers into his. He strokes her palm with his thumb, then turns their hands over to that her palm is up. With his other hand, he begins slowly tracing the lines on her palm. He can feel her holding her breath. Mildly terrified, he ventures to look at her face, only to find she’s already looking at him. She looks terrified too. But she doesn’t look away.

Ellie moves onto her knees facing him, the bottom half of the robe opening and revealing her red knickers. She leans forward, kissing him, soft, sweet, and slow, her free hand going to the back of his neck. Then she parts her own lips and he accepts the invitation with vigor, unlocking their hands and moving his to rest on her hips. He gently guides her onto his lap so that she’s straddling him, then he takes her face in both hands and deepens the kiss even further. She places her hands flat on his chest, leaning into him. 

For a long while, it’s just this. A leisurely, languid exploration of each other’s mouths, aimlessly wandering hands, quiet panting because they can’t bare to breathe. It’s intimate, almost painfully so, and yet she shows no signs of hesitation. He can hardly believe it.

Finally, their lips swollen and tongues exhausted, they rest their foreheads together, eyes closed as they modulate their breathing again. He wraps his arms around her waist, intent on keeping her where she is.

Alec opens his eyes, then she does too.

“This…all right?” He asks quietly.

In a gesture that's almost _shy_, her head moves down to rest on his shoulder. He tightens his arms around her, his lips pressed to the crook of her neck. He runs a comforting hand up and down her back and presses a kiss to her clavicle.

He’s terrified to disturb the moment, to push her too far, and at the same time, he’s just as terrified to let the moment pass them _by._

“Ellie.”

He feels her breath hot on his chest.

“You do trust me,” he whispers. “Yeah?”

She nods against his shoulder.

He kisses her throat gently and brings his hands back to her waist.

“Then come to bed.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops I'm going to need one more chapter to finish this, sorry!

Alec waits for a response and is met with a few agonizing moments of silence. Her forehead is still resting on his shoulder so he can't even look to her face for signs of what she’s feeling. His hands caress the sides of her body, inside the robe.

“Ellie.”

Finally, she raises her head, looks at him with wide, vulnerable, very serious eyes. Then crawls off his lap. He feels a heaviness in the pit of his stomach, preparing himself for her to leave again. But instead, when she stands, she nods at him.

“All right then,” she says quietly.

He’s not sure how long he simply sits there staring at her, a bit dumbfounded.

“Hardy.” Her voice is uncertain now and his heart breaks a little.

He stands quickly and reaches for her hand, then leads her to his bedroom. He closes the door behind them, he’s not sure why, perhaps a subconscious attempt to keep her from running away. He switches on a small lamp that sits on his bureau, then turns to face her. She looks a little lost, standing in his flannel robe in the middle of his bedroom, and the very last thing he wants is for her to change her mind. Fucking her is nice, no question about it, and he’d do it again and again. But he has the chance to make love to her now. Before this, he’s hardly given much thought to the distinction between the two, and now it’s never been more clear to him. _She_ has been very adament about said distinction up to this point.

That said, Alec is well aware that he has to be careful here. He needs to be sure that she wants this too, that she’s not simply acquiescing out of obligation or guilt. It only works if she wants him this way too. The chemistry between them has been present for a long time, and the intimacy that has crept up on them is hard to ignore, though she has certainly tried. She knows him better than anyone else, and he would wager that same is true in reverse for her. But the last person who knew her this well, and loved her, betrayed her in the most painful way possible, and that will always be on her mind, he knows.

He takes a step toward her, nearly closing the gap between them, and reaches for the loose knot of the robe’s belt. He gently pulls her forward, then unfastens the knot and lets the robe open itself. She’s put her red knickers back on, but nothing else.

Ellie looks up at him, face flushed with self-consciousness. This is a very different Ellie from the one he fucked on the couch two hours ago. His heart feels like it’s expanding in his chest. He reaches out to cup the back of her head, his thumb stroking her jawline, then draws her in for a kiss. He keeps it light, but slow, allowing her to ease herself into it. Her hands go to his waist, underneath the hem of his t-shirt, and he starts to relax. She’s here. She’s still here.

His lips move from her lips to her cheek, her jaw, her temple, and then hold fast there for a moment. Her hands are sliding up and down his sides experimentally.

“Trust me,” he whispers, echoing his question from earlier, this time as a request. His free hand goes around her waist, holding her to him. “I’ve got you.”

Her nod is almost imperceptible against his cheek, but he can feel something inside her start to shfit. He kisses his way back to her lips, then pulls away just a little so he can see her eyes. There’s an odd, childlike sort of wonder in them, an openness that moves him, but he needs her to be certain.

Forehead resting against hers, he asks, “D’you want me to stop?”

She shakes her head, slowly but clearly, and replies, “No.”

Alec feels a sudden euphoric freedom now. There’s something incredibly liberating about not having to hide how he feels about her. She knows, she must know unequivocally that he is in love with her. He’s not said it in so many words but he’s said it in every other possible way. She may not be in love with _him_ yet, but she is at least welcoming his love, at last encouraging it. For the first time maybe in _years_, he’s a man with nothing to hide.

He kisses her properly now, knocking her back a foot or two. She grips his hips to stay upright, then her hands begin to wander around his back, setting his skin aflame. His hands are doing the same to hers, as he kisses her like a man who has just been let loose.

“Ellie,” he whispers, for he cannot stop saying her name. It reminds him that this is real. And every time she doesn’t pull away at the sound of it, he redoubles his efforts.

She’s panting, struggling to catch her breath, and he’s afraid he might be overwhelming her with his desperate affection. He pulls back, breathless himself, and she _smiles_ at him.

“Yeah?” He asks, knowing that his meaning will somehow be clear to her.

“Yeah,” she confirms, smile remaining.

He pushes the robe off her shoulders and lets it fall away, then she lifts his t-shirt over his head. He starts guiding her backward in the direction of the bed, and after a few steps she stops him with her palms flat on his chest. She seems to have stopped him merely to smile at him, because that’s all she’s doing. She has an expression on her face like a lightbulb has just gone off and her breath catches in her throat as she exhales. He has no idea what’s gone on inside her head but he’s mightily encouraged by it.

“Touch me,” Ellie tells him. It’s a demand, but it feels different from before, when she had to insist he fuck her the way she wanted it. It’s an invitation, an offering, almost.

He keeps one arm around her waist and brings the other to her collarbone. With the back of his hand, he trails slowly downward over her chest, to her breasts, holding her closer when she shivers at his touch. They’re impossibly close now, cheek to cheek, his face buried in her hair, her head bent down watching the trajectory of his hand with baited breath. He lingers on her breast a while, tracing the outline of it, the cupping it from underneath and feeling the weight of it, finally running his thumb over her nipple. Her jaw has gone slack and he hears her whimper just the slightest bit. He wonders if she’s finally become as electrified as he is. As he _has_ been.

His hand drifts lower, fingers ghosting over her ribcage, her stomach, down to the waistband of her knickers. He pauses briefly, listening and feeling for signs that this is what she wants. She makes a little humming noise in anticipation and he plunges his hand in. She’s holding onto him tightly now, arms around his shoulders. He begins sucking her neck as he rubs at her. He finds her clit – he’s getting more efficient at this now – and she gasps into his chest, breath hot on his skin. Without removing his hand, he continues pushing her back to the bed. She keeps her arms around his shoulders as she sits, legs spread, her whole body vibrating. He lowers himself to his knees on the floor in front of her.

With questioning eyes, he looks up at her, ready to tug her knickers off. And ready for much more than that. But he remembers their first time, remembers how she’d said no. _Not that_.

“Can I…” He trails off, hoping she’ll fill in the blank for him.

She focuses her eyes on him, though they’ve already gone a bit dark and glassy, and seems to be contemplating it. Then she nods.

With a smile he can’t seem to suppress, he pulls her knickers off, sliding them down her legs. Then he parts her thighs wide again, moving in closer before arranging her legs over his shoulders. He places a hand on stomach and guides her to lie back. The look in his eyes tells her what he’s already said out loud many times. _Trust me_.

He kisses the inside of her thighs, taking his time, and when he brings his mouth to her, she inhales sharply. He stops to caress her thighs before going any further, giving her a moment to adjust. Then his tongue is inside her and she gasps out loud. For awhile it’s all exploratory – gentle and experimental. He’s in no rush. He catalogues how she feels, how she tastes, the meaning of each sound she makes. It takes time for her to fully relax, to be content with his adventurous tongue and to just let him play. After some time, he feels like he has enough of a sense of what needs to be done to get her off, and starts working toward a _goal_. Her moaning and writhing is a surefire sign that he’s getting it right so he keeps it up until he can feel her struggling to breathe. He sucks on her clit relentlessly until she cries out, smacking the pillow over and over with her hand and finally throwing it across the room.

As she comes down from it, he drags his tongue along her thigh and up her leg, then stands before her at the edge of the bed. He pulls down his sweatpants and briefs and crawls onto the bed beside her. He turns her face to him and kisses her languidly. His tongue has not yet tired of her. As she kisses him back, she moves onto her side to be a more active participant, her arm snaking around him. It’s amazing how glorious it feels to have her _with_ him, really with him.

Ellie reaches out to curl her fingers around his hard cock and he opens his eyes to find her smiling at him. Her hand glides up and down slowly, thumb occasionally brushing over the tip. He buries his face in her hair, panting heavily, and bucks his hips into her hands. He doesn’t want her to get him off this way, but he doesn’t have the strength to ask her to stop, it feels too good. Her lips brush over his cheek to his temple.

“You want to be inside me,” she whispers. It has the heart of a question but the body of a demand.

“God yes,” he gasps out.

Alec starts to move over her but then she pushes him onto his back. She straddles him, keeping his cock in her hand.

Just the sight of her, on her knees hovering over him, stark naked with his cock in her hand…he has absolutely had this dream before.

He swallows. “Ellie, I…”

“Shh.” She strokes him once. “I know.” Then she guides him inside her.

The sound that comes out of him must have been _quite_ unseemly, he thinks, but after that he can’t think straight anymore anyway. She begins to move over him, tentatively at first, getting used to the feel of him at this angle. A bead of sweat drips from her clavicle all the way down her body and his eyes follow it. Then she leans forward, hands on either side of his head, bracing herself over him.

She makes eye contact, and though this is only their third time having sex, this is the first time she hasn’t looked away. He’s intoxicated by her gaze. They move together, and it feels much less messy than the first two times, it feels _smooth_, connected, easy. She kisses him, initiates it herself, and now her tongue is the aggressor.

With one hand in her hair and the other at her back, he suddenly finds himself flipping them over, though he hadn’t planned to. But his lust and affection for her is so powerful that he unconsciously feels like he has to control the way it's used. He starts picking up the pace before he means to, his face buried in her neck and shoulder, little cries escaping his mouth. He turns them into open-mouthed kisses on her skin and her own breathing starts to quicken.

Ellie rolls them on their sides, hooking her leg over his hip, and he promptly grabs hold of her thigh as he continues thrusting inside her, albeit slower now. The position change forces them to look at each other, and he can hardly grasp that she’s the one who initiated it. She has her fingers knotted in his hair, her nose brushing against his, and with each raise of her hips she omits a tiny gasp that drives him _insane_. God, he loves her so much.

He can feel her getting close. And the closer she gets, the more she seems to pull herself away from him, emotionally, little bit by little bit. She’s warming to the intimacy but, it seems, not enough to fully let go.

“Hey. Ellie.” He captures her bottom lip and forces her gaze on him. “Stay with me.” His thrusts quicken, his fingers gripping her thighs tightly. She’s painfully close now and tries to look away again. “Ellie. Come on. I’ve got you.”

Her eyes lock with his. He pushes deep into her and her jaw goes slack as she gasps, once, twice, three times, finishing with a high-pitched and breathy “_Alec_.”

It’s the first time she’s said it, the first time she’s actually cried out his name. He comes immediately at the sound of it, both of them gasping into each other’s mouths, desperate to kiss, but unable to focus their physical energies enough to actually do it.

“Oh fuck,” Alec exhales, still holding her tightly to him, tipping his head to press his lips to her chest, feeling the rise and fall of it with great satisfaction. “Jesus.”

He guides her onto her back and pulls out of her, but still holds on, his head resting on her chest.

“Wow,” she says with a sigh.

Alec readjusts himself to take her breast in his mouth, sucking at it like it’s pure sustenance. She strokes his face absently, staring at the ceiling. He moans contentedly at the taste and feel of her. He slides his body on top of hers, moving his mouth to the other breast and doing the same. He can’t stop. He can’t get enough. She doesn’t even seem to be registering it much, now just stroking his hair, in a daze, as he sucks and licks at her.

Finally he lifts his head to look at her. “Stay,” he begs her breathlessly. She glances down at his face. “Stay tonight.”

She simply closes her eyes and guides his head to lay in the valley between her breasts. It feels both sexy and maternal somehow, like she’s both comforting him and enticing him at once. He lays his head as directed and she continues stroking his hair.

“Stay,” he whispers again. He wants to hold her, fall asleep with her, make her come again in the morning, maybe more than once.

In the quiet they hear an incessant buzzing, and Ellie sits up a bit when she realizes it’s her mobile.

“Sorry,” she says, extricating herself from him. “Could be about the kids.”

Naked in the darkness, she scurries into the next room to find her mobile. He waits, barely moving, reeling from the loss of her warmth.

When she steps back into the room, she has her mobile in her hand hanging at her side, and she looks white as a ghost.

“It’s my mum,” Ellie tells him. “She’s had a stroke.”

*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!

Alec waits two days to hear from her.

He sends her one text each day, just to check in, but hears nothing. He is careful not to overwhelm her, not to become an obligation to her. Generally speaking she has always been adept at communication, so if she’s not responding, it’s because she truly is busy. She’s a working single mother with a family in crisis. She doesn’t deserve to be nagged.

But two days of radio silence is all he can bear. Especially after the night they’ve just spent together, the progress he’s made with her.

And so, against his better judgment and with the desperation of a man in love, he shows up at Broadchurch CID. His former colleagues are astonished to see him, and he is immediately aware that his presence is soon to become the subject of much town gossip.

Ellie is not there, of course. He had a feeling this would be the case. But it seemed the most logical place to start. Nish is kind enough to tell him that he can very likely find Ellie at the hospital. She’s been in and out of the office the last two days, mostly out.

Alec is hesitant to show up at the hospital. There’s a world in which that would be invasive, and another world in which it is sweet and thoughtful. It could, he supposes, be both at once. As he’s contemplating whether or not to go to the hospital, he also has to contemplate what he’ll _do_ if he does. Bring her flowers? No, lunch. He should always bring her food. Flowers are work. And Fred will just try to eat them. Food unlocks a solid reason for visiting her, he thinks. She needs to eat. He can be helpful by showing up with lunch.

With a certain resolve, he stops by Ellie’s favourite chippie, then makes his way to the hospital. Enough people there recognize him, so it isn’t difficult to find out where Anne Barrett’s room is located.

He maintains a respectful distance in the hallway, though it’s hard to escape the fact that he is just _lurking_ there, _assuming _she’s here, _waiting_ for her to come out. Alec cannot believe it has come to this.

Ellie emerges, in jeans and a jumper, with Fred on her hip. A sleepy baby who does not understand why his grandmother is hooked up to machines. When she sees Alec standing there, it’s as if her face cannot make a decision between shocked and relieved. She seems to be trying to smile. But failing.

And yet all he can think is, oh god, he loves her.

He thinks back on the time when he could see her every day without this thought knocking him on his arse. He was too busy then. _They_ were too busy then. He could go about his day, cranky, determined, and obsessed, and simply focus on the case at hand. He can’t do that anymore.

Alec closes the gap between them. He holds up the packet of fish and chips.

“Thought perhaps you could use some lunch.”

There’s a flicker of recognition in Fred’s eyes, and his face, once strained and confused, seems to relax. As Alec and Ellie regard each other uncertainly, Fred suddenly reaches his arms out to Alec.

“Oh.” Ellie shifts with surprise.

Then there’s a messy little handoff. Ellie taking the packet of chips as Alec takes Fred.

“Hey there, lad,” Alec says quietly, a bit overwhelmed by this turn of events.

He holds the child at his hip. Then Fred lays his head on Alec’s shoulder.

Alec looks at Ellie. Just as overwhelmed as he is. She’s staring at her child, so calm and content in her former boss’ arms.

“Didn’t mean to, um. Interrupt,” he says finally. “Just wanted to see how you were gettin’ on.” He rocks Fred a bit, unconsciously.

Ellie shifts her focus back to his face, then exhales heavily. “Prognosis isn’t great. We’re all just sort of roaming the hospital aimlessly like cattle. Taking shifts,” she says. “Fred cheers her up, but it’s…hard to have him here, of course. Bit too restless for a place like this.”

“Well.” Alec glances down at Fred, whose eyes have glazed over and blinking has slowed. “Two years old now, he’s got lots to do.”

She nearly manages a smile. “Yes,” she replies. “I just haven’t got the energy to chase him around.”

And, she thinks, not for the first time. The ways in which she is failing him as a mother…

She shakes the thought away.

There’s quiet for a moment. Neither of them is certain for how long.

Then Alec says, “I can take him, if you like. For a bit. Give you a rest.”

Ellie stares back at him. “What?”

“’m at the Trader’s.” He looks down at Fred. “Looks like he could use a nap anyway. I’ll keep him with me.”

She blinks. “You got a room?”

“Just in case,” he says hesitantly. “Don’t like drivin’ at night.”

“Oh.”

Fred’s eyes close, his mouth hanging open. Ellie reaches forward and smoothes back his hair with a soft smile. She’s so close now, he tries not to be intoxicated by her.

“Let me take him, Ellie.”

She looks up at him. “You’re sure.”

“Aye, I’m sure.”

“All right.” She holds his gaze for a short moment, then breaks it. “I’ll just, um.”

She disappears back into her mother’s room, and then reappears with Fred’s bag. She helps sling it over his shoulder.

“I’ll come by later then?”

He nods. “Take your time.”

“…Thank you.”

She kisses Fred’s little cheek. He nods again, then turns and carries Fred down the hall.

*

But it’s Lucy who picks up Fred a few hours later. Alec hands him over reluctantly.

“She got called into the station to interview a subject.”

Alec blinks a her. “A suspect.”

“Yeah, right.”

It’s somehow odd, the idea of Ellie working without him. Though of course she did it for years and years before him.

Fred in her arms and on her way out the door, Lucy stops and says, “You fancy my sister now? After all that in court?”

Alec stands at the door. “Tell her I’ll be here ‘til mornin’.”

*

Alec spends most of the evening watching shit television with a bottle of scotch. He ought to have just gone home before sun down.

Not that he’d be doing things a whole lot differently if he were at home right now.

He’d thought about having dinner downstairs, but that would have meant small talk with Becca Fisher, so he’d opted for room service.

It’s only half nine, but Alec has just about given up and begun getting ready for bed when there’s a knock on the door. He straightens himself out and groans when he catches himself looking in the mirror. _What a knob end_. That’s what she’d say.

She’s still in her jeans and jumper. She’s a different kind of tired than she was before. And he understands. The exhaustion you feel after work versus the exhaustion you feel after handling a family crisis are…very different. She’s tired now, but glowing somehow. The afterglow of a successful, he assumes, interrogation.

“Sorry about earlier,” is the first thing she says, and he’s not sure what she means. “Can I come in?”

He steps aside so she can enter, then closes the door behind her.

“Thanks for minding Fred. Hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” Alec replies easily, and then, “Bit funny how his only words are ‘Mumma’ and ‘no.’”

She smiles. “Yes, we’re working on that.”

He glances over at his half-empty bottle of scotch and winces. “…Drink?”

“No, ta,” she replies, eyes darting around the room. “Just came to say thank you. For everything.”

His heart stops. No, honest, he feels like it has. This feels overwhelmingly like an _ending_.

“For everything,” Alec repeats, dubiously.

She nods as if it’s all very matter-of-fact. “For the chips and the child-minding and…dinner, the other night.”

He frowns at her. She begins wringing her hands a bit apprehensively.

“_Dinner_,” he says. And he doesn’t want to say it, this crassness isn’t his style, but somehow it doesn’t feel crass with her, it feels like a badge of honor he’d happily wear with pride, so he says it. “You came four times.”

She looks down. “…Yes.”

He feels himself going on the offense. Or the defense, honestly, he’s not sure at this point. “You did, didn’t you? I’m not imaginin’ it. I was there, you were there – “

“_Yes_,” she repeats, anxiously going to sit down on the couch, pressing her restless hands between her thighs.

“So perhaps let’s dispense with callin’ it _dinner_, yeah?” His hands are on his hips now as he faces her. He’s been too gentle with her, maybe, for too long. He’s let her lead. Alec Hardy is not a man who likes to be led.

But all the same, he’d follow her anywhere. So what is there to do.

“We agreed to have _a bit of fun_,” Ellie reminds him. “A mad passionate shag now and then. That’s _what we agreed_, and then…”

“What,” Alec replies. “And then _what_.”

“And then…” She seems to shrink a size or two. “And then you seduced me.”

He looks down and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I seduced you.”

“God’s sake, will you stop repeating everything I say in an incredulous tone!”

“An incredulous _tone_.”

He had hoped to make her laugh. But it seems to only make her sad.

“Ellie…” He starts to go to her but she holds up a hand to signal for him to stay where he is.

“You’ve tried to make your feelings influence mine,” she says finally, and it’s clear she didn’t want to. “And I’ve told you I’m not ready for that.” She rubs her temple. “Whatever you’re feeling is yours to feel and I can’t make you unfeel it, I understand that, I…like it even. It’s very…flattering.” She hears him scoff, but continues on. “I respect what you need, but what _I _need is a good fuck now and again and no more. I’m sorry to say it, but there it is.”

He’s quiet, scratching his head and avoiding her gaze. Although, to be fair, she’s avoiding his all the same.

“I can do that,” he says quietly.

She looks up, eyes alight. “No you can’t. You’ve made that painfully clear.”

Ellie stands and throws one last look at him before brushing past. Alec reaches out, means to grab her arm but she’s too quick. His fingers brush her back, between her shoulder blades. And, to his astonishment, she stops. With her back to him, she doesn’t move. She closes her eyes and breathes.

His heart stops again, this time for a different reason. Intellectually he understands that it might be better for both of them if she just _left_. Said goodbye, walked away. But the only thing he ever seems to want to say to her these days is _stay_.

His fingers brush her shoulders now and he turns his body until he’s standing directly behind her. They travel up to her neck. Her hair is up, haphazardly bound by a clip, and his fingers dance along the top of her spine. Her head drops forward, shoulders slumping. She exhales.

“We can’t keep doing this,” she says softly.

Alec takes a step forward until his body is nearly flush against hers. He bows his head, lips grazing her skin. He can feel the shiver going down her spine.

“Neither of us can be happy this way.”

He presses his lips into the crook between her neck and shoulder. She instinctively tilts her head.

“I’m very happy,” he murmurs.

He begins to suck at her skin. Her chest rises and falls a little quicker. “_Now_,” she tells him. “But tomorrow?”

“Ellie,” he breathes, kissing his way up to the sensitive spot behind her earlobe. His hands are at her hips now. They slide forward to her stomach, underneath the hem of her jumper.

“Remember how you used to be,” Ellie says, trying valiantly to remain strong. “Frustrated, annoyed at me all the time, swatting me away like a fly. The way you used to growl at me, and grimace...”

One of his hands slides down to the waistband of her jeans, the other up over her ribcage. “You’ve cracked me open,” he mumbles, then sucks on her earlobe.

“No, I haven’t,” she insists weakly.

“You’ve cracked me open, and I see you now.” His fingers slip under the waistband of her jeans, sliding back and forth. She tips her head back against his shoulder. “All I do is see you now.”

“I drive you mad.”

“Yes,” he agrees, and she curses herself for her own choice of words.

Ellie whirls around to face him. He seems ready for her somehow, like he’d expected it. He keeps one hand at the small of her back, underneath her jumper. The other goes to her jawline, fingertips ghosting over her skin.

“You’ve got cracks too,” Alec tells her, eyes meeting hers. “Small, but widening. Growing in number…”

He kisses her, pulling her in, and his eyes open again long before hers do. When her eyelids flutter, brown eyes wide and vulnerable, he says, “I know you feel this.”

“No.” She dips her head and buries it in his neck.

His arms encircle her more tightly, his lips in her hair. “You do, or you’d have left.”

“No.” There’s a distinct break in her voice, a swallowed sob.

He reaches for her face, turns it up to look at him. “We don’t need to be in a…committed relationship, we don’t need to see each other every day, you need not make a single promise to me,” Alec says. “I’ll take you however you’ll have me. I only need to know that you feel this.”

He kisses her jaw, her cheek, her temple. She closes her eyes again, placing both palms flat on his chest.

“Mm.”

He kisses her hairline, her ear. “Can do better than _that_, lass.”

Her eyes pop open. A current of electricity shoots through her. She exhales like she’s been holding her breath for _months_.

“Lass,” she repeats, barely audible to herself or to him.

His hands slide down to her waist again as he kisses her neck.

They’re both intoxicated now, a little dizzy, held together as if by magnetic force.

“Yes,” she says, and it’s almost a whimper.

He finds her pulse point and nips at it. “Yes what.”

Her hands slide around to his back, fully leaning into him now, limbs turning to jelly.

“Never knew you could be like this,” Ellie whispers, almost to herself.

He kisses his way back to her lips. “I think you did,” he counters, before kissing her softly and briefly.

..And maybe he’s right. Maybe she _did_. Maybe she wishes she felt more surprised than she does. Maybe that would be easier.

His hands slide up under her jumper, splaying across her bare back. He kisses the side of her mouth.

“Do feel it,” she murmurs.

He stops. Stays exactly where he is. “…Again.”

She tightens her arms around him, shifting their intimate but amorphous embrace into an unequivocal hug.

“I feel it.”

He holds her so tightly that he’d fear she might break if she were absolutely anyone else. And then, without even realizing he’s doing it, he’s guiding her backward toward the edge of the bed. She pulls back to look up at him, following his lead, until she sits down at the edge. Alec lowers down to his knees in front of her, and not for the first time. He doesn’t know what this means and neither does she. Reverence, worship, desire, but also…respect? Need. Vulnerability.

He’s tall, so it makes him just below face level with her. He lifts her jumper over her head and she lets him. She’s oddly pliable, not a word he’d ever have used to describe Ellie Miller in the past, and in this case he knows that pliability is entirely a result of _trust_.

Alec grips her sides and brings his lips to her sternum, just below her breasts. He drags his lips down over her ribcage, giving attention to each one. Then down to her stomach, slowly pressing open-mouthed kisses to every inch of her skin. He unbuttons her jeans, then unzips then, so he has more ground to cover. Once his lips have touched every part of her they can reach, he starts to tug at her jeans. Her hands go to his hair, but instead of lifting herself up so he can do as he likes, she slides down off the bed, slowly down to the ground, onto his lap.

At first, he appears startled, then delighted and warmed by her.

“Alec.”

She takes his face in her hands and he immediately kisses her.

“Alec,” she says again, as he kisses her again.

“Mm.” He stops to look at her.

Something in her eyes has turned to sadness, fighting with adoration and love. The conflict leads to an expression on her face that is absolutely devastating.

“I do have feelings for you,” Ellie says. “But it can’t work. Not right now.”

Alec is stricken. Instantly heartsick and thrown.

“I have a baby who is…baffled and needy. A teenager who is traumatized,” she tells him. “A mother who is dying, a father who is terrified. I’m still _married_ to a paedophile and a killer who is out there somewhere. And I have no idea where any of that even leaves _me_.”

This is the trouble – he cannot argue with her. He cannot make any of this untrue.

He touches his forehead to hers. “I know.”

She kisses him, her lips lingering against his. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He knows, but he can’t let go. She’s the only thing that’s felt right in his life for so many years. He’d forgotten what it was to feel whole until the first time he’d held her, just before he left.

Alec can’t help it, he buries his face in her chest, breathing her in, staring at every freckle there.

“For now,” she says, trailing fingers through his hair. “At least. We can be friends.”

He tries to nod, but apparently not hard enough.

“But, I think,” Ellie continues, strangely calm. That strange kind of calm that comes upon you when you’ve made the right decision, no matter how hard it was. “No sex. Not even a good fuck.” She says it with a tiny laugh, hoping to lighten things, but it doesn’t. She sobers again. “It only complicates things.” She kisses his hair, and Alec is acutely aware that this may be the most intimate gesture he’s ever received from her. “All right?”

Ellie tries to crawl off his lap but he holds her there.

“Let me go,” she says softly. “Remember how much I irritate you. The chips, the KitKats, the overcompensating. I hit you and mock you and throw grapes at you. What is the _point_ of me – “

He lifts his head and kisses her, hard and slow. Their lips separate so reluctantly that it seems like they might never. Then he whispers, “You’re the point of _me_.”

Ellie blinks, then presses her fingers to her tear ducts with a sniff. She crawls off his lap and this time he lets her go. He stays on the floor as she finds her jumper and pulls it back on. She heads for the door and turns back to find him watching her. Of course he is.

“Come by some time,” she says with a faint smile. “Fred likes a nap buddy. And I can always use a bag of chips.”

He tries to smile back, he really does.

“Don’t forget to eat,” she tells him. “Even if it’s just salads.” She gestures to the half-empty bottle of scotch. “And that’s too much for your heart and you know it.”

She stands there a beat, feeling pulled in too many directions to move at all, then she walks out the door.

After a moment, he painstakingly hoists himself back up to standing.

He stands in the middle of the room. And he exhales.

That’s not the only thing that’s too much for his heart.

***


End file.
